


Perfume

by Eiprej



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling, F/F, losers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiprej/pseuds/Eiprej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You smell like a trashcan.” Victoria mumbles sleepily somewhere against Chloe’s collarbone, legs tangled up in Chloe’s and arm draped over her waist. Chloe snorts softly from where she has her face pressed against the crown of Victoria’s head, nose buried against soft blonde hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfume

“You smell like a trashcan.” Victoria mumbles sleepily somewhere against Chloe’s collarbone, legs tangled up in Chloe’s and arm draped over her waist. Chloe snorts softly from where she has her face pressed against the crown of Victoria’s head, nose buried against soft blonde hair. 

“Yeah, but I’m also  _hella_ cozy.” Chloe snips back, and pulls Victoria in closer to her, fingers grabbing a fistful of cashmere, the silky touch of too soft, too rich fabric an odd comfort. She inhales deeply and Victoria manages something that Chloe thinks is a disgusted snort.

“Did you just  _sniff_ me? You really are a fucking dog, Price.” Victoria says with as much snark as she can muster in between the tired sigh she releases. Too soft. She knows she needs to step it the fuck up, but they’ve been lying here for over an hour, and the sunset leaves the softest glow in the room, and the dorm is so quiet she can hear the gentle inhale and exhale of Chloe’s breath.

That gentle inhale and exhale tapers off into the lightest laugh, a wheezing snicker; Victoria swears to god it’s all that smoke clogging up her lungs that makes her sound raspy, sometimes.

“At least I don’t smell like  _Omellete du Fromage,_ or whatever the hell it is you’re wearing, Chase.”

Victoria groans at the clear butchery of the French language, at the exaggerated way Chloe digs into it. She’s at least half positive that the stench of marijuana emanating from Chloe’s clothes alone is enough to make her high, because she wants to laugh, too. And Chloe’s stupidity makes her want to get closer.

It has to be at least a secondhand high – that doesn’t exist, does it? – that makes her skin feel fuzzy where it touches Chloe. “You did  _not_ just fucking quote a meme.”

Chloe shifts and presses her fingertips against the curve of Victoria’s spine, and god, that feels so nice. Against the top of her head she practically feels Chloe’s lips curl up into a grin. “My, my, you caught me. Victoria Chase, the ultimate meme loving fuck.”

“Literally everyone has watched Dexter’s Laboratory, you idiot.” Victoria grumbles, and this time Chloe just hums, content. The two of them settle down after that, surprisingly. For a little while.

“… It’s  _Chantal Thomass Osez-Moi_ , actually.” Victoria breathes out a few minutes after she’s sure Chloe’s dozed off, halfway gone herself.

“… Sounds a lot like  _Omelette du Fromage_ to me.”

Victoria really hates how Chloe’s laugh – so warm and natural and inviting – lulls her into sleep again.


End file.
